Showing results by author "Persia Walker" in All Categories

When writer John Chapter is found dead, it's the words he didn't write that might hold the key. In the heart of the roaring twenties, Harlem is a nexus of intellectual verve and literary prowess. Esteemed writers hold court at elegant soirées, critics debate the merits of the newest works, and ambition is the lifeblood of every aspiring novelist and poet. But as autumn casts its golden-red spell over the city, Harlem murmurs with mysteries that remain unseen beneath its vibrant surface. Lanie Price, a society reporter with unparalleled access to Harlem's elite, is accustomed to uncovering ...

In December 1923, Esther Todd was a lovely young pianist and a rising star. One month later, she was on the Most Wanted List. She vanished from the snowy streets of Harlem, while thieves hit the home of her society patron, pulling off a million-dollar heist. Were the disappearance and the robbery a coincidence or a conspiracy? Somebody knew, but nobody was talking.

Lanie Price, a 1920s Harlem society columnist, witnesses the brutal nightclub kidnapping of the "Black Orchid," a sultry, seductive singer with a mysterious past. When hours pass without word from the kidnapper, puzzlement grows as to his motive. Then a gruesome package arrives at Price's doorstep, and the questions change. Just what does this kidnapper want - and how many people is he willing to kill in order to get it?

This exquisite collection of short stories is bound to both chill and delight you. In "Henry's Hand," you'll see that it's sometimes hard to know where the fog ends and fantasy begins. You'll meet Jake Cullin, a very nice fellow, but you most certainly won't want to stick around when the "Soul Catcher" drops in for a visit. Then there's the dinner invitation you'll want to consider, the one where one hostess tells the other to "Wake Me When It's Over." Last, but not least, you'll join Bill and his wife as they head off for a vacation they'll never forget -- or ever want to repeat -- the one...

When is beauty a curse, not a blessing? They still talk about Chrissie Snow on West 86th Street. They still whisper about how she looked coming down, like a doll with her T-shirt billowing out and her hair trailing behind her. She didn’t claw at the air or put out her hands in any desperate attempt to stave off the inevitable. She simply came down. Fast. And landed hard. What drove her to that window and what pushed her out?